


Inked Flower

by Piper_Emerald



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Art, Connor means well, English nerd trying to explain art and hopefully not failing, Evan can draw, Galaxy Gals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Tree Bros, connor's pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 06:17:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11142615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piper_Emerald/pseuds/Piper_Emerald
Summary: Connor wasn't supposed to have a soulmate. Nobody deserved to get stuck with someone as broken as he was. So when the beautifully inked flower appeared on his arm, he hid it and tried very hard to push away any feelings it enticed.Soulmate AU where when a mark is put on one it appears on the other





	Inked Flower

Connor wasn’t sure at what point he convinced himself that he didn’t have a soulmate. It may have been back in second grade right after he snapped for the first time. Or it was the time after that, or the time after that. Looking back, most of the incidents blur together. 

He had only voice this conclusion once. It was to a therapist he was no longer going to. She’d called him irrational. Alright, she had used nicer words, but that was the gist of it. Everyone has a soulmate. At some point, everyone gets their connection. It usually starts with random marks, then deliberate ones put their by one of both parties. Eventually messages, then finding some way to find each other in real life.

He shouldn’t worry about not finding his. The marks would come to him at some point, he just needed to be patient. 

His therapist hadn’t understood. Connor told himself he didn’t have a soulmate not because he was afraid he’d end up with out one. He did this because he knew he didn’t deserve to have one. Nobody deserved to get stuck with someone as broken as he was.

This delusion lasted him until his senior year of high school. 

He had dropped a pen. It stained his palm. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time. 

A few hours later the stain was bigger.

At first he dismissed it. He probably just hadn’t realized how big it was to begin with. He could blame being high at the time. Or, maybe, the ink was bleeding in his skin.

He spent the rest of class imagining the ink slowly poisoning his blood stream. As ways to die go, he would give himself points for originality. He could just imagine his family mournfully explaining to relative that the cause of death was a sharpie. 

These fantasies were forgotten when he noticed the small heart at the crease of his wrist.

Connor hadn’t drawn a heart since he was in preschool, and never would he have drawn it on his skin. It didn’t matter how high he was that morning, he knew himself well enough to recognize that the mark was not made by him.

The heart was tentative, unsure. His soulmate was probably both of those things. They were testing the link, making sure that they weren’t crazy. They expected Connor to respond in some way.

He pitied whoever they were.

The heart went away after a few days, and Connor tried very hard to pretend it was never there. For a week, this wasn’t too hard. His soulmate didn’t draw anything else. They probably thought that the pen mark had been their doing after all. In the back of his mind, Connor knew this would only last so long.

It turned out it could only last that week. 

He hadn’t meant to smear nail polish on the back of his hand, but he’s accidentally knocked over the bottle while repainting. He tried to wipe the smudge of, but it wouldn’t go away. He spent an hour pleading to a god he didn’t believe in that his soulmate wouldn’t notice the mark. 

Connor should have realized by now that his pleas would always go unnoticed.

It started on his forearm. This time it wasn’t small and it wasn’t unsure. The design looked like a flower, but calling it that seemed to simplify what Connor was sure must have taken at least an hour of careful drawing. The petals bent outward, fading around his arm. The stem branched into a twisting vine, covered in delicately placed leaves. 

When he awoke at morning, he spent a full minute just staring at the drawing. The gentle curves seemed to beckon him. It was enticing. Were he anyone else, he would have called it romantic. Forget poetry or music, this drawing would make anyone whole fall for the stranger at the end of Connor’s connection. 

But Connor wasn’t whole. He was broken. He was fucked in the head. He didn’t deserve someone who spent an hour drawing a hello. 

He wore a shirt with long sleeves that day. He had enough from back when he cared enough to cover the scars that littered his arms. They served as constant reminders why he couldn’t cave into an inked flower.

In a week, the flower faded. Connor wished that was the end of it. 

For the next few months he awoke to design after design, master piece after master piece enveloping his skin. He covered everyone of them, hoping each would be the last.

“Nice coat,” his sister remarked dryly as she drove them both to school one day. 

Connor was sweating through the fabric, but he wasn’t about to take it off. He didn’t mind over heating when the only other option was advertising his soulmate’s work. That didn’t seem fair. If Connor couldn’t accept the art, then other people shouldn’t be aloud to see it. His shame would stay hidden with the designs. 

Apparently, Zoe wasn’t fooled.

“You can’t hide forever,” she told him sadly.

“It’s none of your business,” he informed her curtly.

“I know,” she still sounded sad. “But you realize you’re probably breaking someone’s heart?”

“Yeah,” he said tightly. “I’m well aware.”

He decided not to skip any of his classes that day, favoring that air conditioned classroom to suffering through the heat. That being said, he paid about as much attention as he would have if he ditched. Hist first teacher didn’t seem to care. None of his classmates were on task either. 

Most of them were on their phones. He was fairly certain a group of girls were texting each other, since they all struggled to contain laughed at the exact same time. At least they tried to be subtle. The handful of boys playing some sort of multi-player video game were less quiet. 

A few desks down from him, he noticed Alana Beck had a book on her lap. Her head was up, but her gaze was on the worn pages. That girl was too smart for this sad excuse for a school. She’d go places someday. Connor couldn’t say the same for anyone else in the room.

Next to Alana was the only other exception to the cellphone pattern. Connor recognized the boy with the blonde hair and bright blue shirt as Evan Hansen. He didn’t exactly know this kid, but it was easy enough to recognize the only other outcast of their high school. Unlike Connor, Evan wasn’t hated. He was just too socially awkward to fit in. 

Evan’s attention was focused on a note pad in front of him and a pencil in his hand. Every so often his eyes would narrow and he’d erase something. Connor couldn’t see the drawing from his angle, but he was willing to bet that it was something complicated. He felt bad for Evan. His talent was wasted in a school with a shitty art program. Maybe Evan would join Alana in the exclusive “I’ll have a life after high school” club.

When Connor got home from school that day he locked himself in his room. Only then did he let himself pry off his heavy coat and high necked shirt. For a second, he just looked at himself in the mirror.

The vines that encircled his arms were reminiscent of the stem of the first flower. Their leaves were more detailed. Each contained a secret that Connor didn’t deserve to know. They continued up to his shoulder, but exploded into flowers around his neck. Every flower was different. It took Connor an entire Sunday to look up each of them. 

The five on his collar bone meant hope, the three reaching to his neck stood for love, and the one sweeping over his chest meant acceptance. That was the one that he wanted to burn from his skin.

His soulmate had no idea what they were accepting. They had no idea the mess they were asking for. 

He wore the coat the next day. His parents didn’t notice. Zoe wore a pained gaze through breakfast. Connor wasn’t sure what she expected him to do. She of all people should understand why he needed to keep his soulmate away. Connor was dangerous. He was protecting them. 

Walking into school, he noticed Evan Hansen was sitting under a tree just outside. He was holding the same notebook, this time there was a spread of different color pen on the grass in front of him. When Connor passed this kid in the hall, he would flinch. For once, that wasn’t just because Connor was, well, Connor. Evan Hansen was so conscious about everyone around him. For years Connor didn’t think this kid could ever let go of that.

But this was a different Evan Hansen. This kid was so lost in the world he was creating on that paper, that he didn’t even notice Connor walk by. Connor envied the freedom. He envied the light in Evan’s eyes. That light turned a shy kid into someone beautiful.

Evan Hansen would never have Connor’s problem. What he lacked in social skills, he’d be able to make up for with that light. He’d make his soulmate fall for him without even trying.

That was what Connor always found odd about the concept of soulmates. Were people supposed to fall in love with the connection or with the person behind it? As a kid, he thought falling in love with a few doodles were stupid.

Today, he was trying to keep that mind set. He was trying very hard not to trace his finger over the lines inked on him and wonder what it would be like to have the artists arms encircle him instead. It was getting harder and harder to hide that the thought of this unknown person spending so much effort on him tugged something in his chest.

He did his best to distract himself from this. Watching Evan Hansen turned out to be the best method. 

Connor wasn’t exactly spying. He never hid behind a trash can or a tree to steal a glimpse of the boy. No, Evan was fully aware that Connor now spent lunch in the library two tables down from him. Evan was probably not aware that Connor wasn’t actually reading the book in front of him. 

He pretended to do this whenever Evan was pulled out of the world of his sketch book. But, when Evan was focused, he didn’t need to hide his staring. Evan didn’t notice anything aside from whatever he was creating.

It was hard not to wonder what covered the pages of Evan’s sketch book, but Connor never risked being close enough to look. Evan always seemed uneasy when Connor came too close to him. This was probably because Connor shoved him in the hall at the beginning of the year. 

“My connection started,” Zoe voiced as she was driving them home

“It sounds so creepy when you say it like that,” Connor made his tone as passive as he could.

This wasn’t good. Zoe wasn’t like him, she had no reason to be unhappy at the prospect of her soulmate. She’d want to tell people, and by people he meant their parents. At first they would be happy, then they would wonder why Zoe got her link before Connor. For siblings, it was more common that not for the oldest to find their soulmate first.

“I think they go to our school,” she added.

“That was fast,” Connor commented.

“I didn’t get it today,” she admitted.

Connor realized this was why she noticed him covering his drawings. She was doing the same. 

“Why are you hiding?” he questioned.

“I’m not hiding from them,” she explained. “I just, wanted it to be only me and them until we found each other.”

“Right,” Connor nodded. “Who is it?”

“I’ll tell you when I’m sure,” she evaded.

He didn’t argue. There weren’t a lot of kids in their school that Zoe would make sense with. If he tried, it might be possible for him to narrow it down. 

What if it was Evan Hansen? Connor imagined Evan filling page after page of his sketch book of things hat reminded him of Zoe. A knot formed in Connor’s stomach.

He wound’t try to narrow it down. He’d wait until she told him and hope that it was anyone else. Because the light in Evan’s eyes was the only thing keeping him from facing what a monster he was being to the stranger who thought they were in love with him.

A week later Zoe brought Alana Beck home for dinner.

It made sense. In a way, he was happy for his sister. His parents were really glad. So glad it made Connor sick. 

He didn’t eat. He just sat there and watched Zoe and Alana smile at each other. That was what pushed him over the edge. 

He wasn’t supposed to want this. He was supposed to be content alone. He wasn’t supposed to cave. 

Unable to control himself, he pushed his body away from the table and ran up the stairs to his room. He could hear his mother and Zoe calling after him, but he didn’t care. He locked the door. His shaking hands grasped a sharpie and pulled his sweatshirt off.

He wanted to draw a fucking heart on his wrist. He wanted to write his name, his phone number, something that the beautiful artist he never met could hold onto.

But that wasn’t fair to them.

With a trembling hand, Connor ran the tip of the pen along a jagged scar on his left forearm. He stared at the ugly mark. It cut through the vines like a ruthless knife.

He traced the rest of the scars on the arm, he moved on to the other, to his legs, and finally his wrists. He pained the cruel reminders of his failure to die with ink.

Finally, his fingers dropped the sharpie. He looked at his body in the mirror. The once beautiful curves and lines were now distorted, deformed, broken. 

Now they’d understand.

That Monday Evan Hansen wasn’t at his usual table durning lunch. That was okay. Connor shouldn’t need a distraction if his soulmate stopped trying.

And they did stop. 

By Tuesday the ink was gone. Connor realized that they must have been retracing it every night. Without the persistence, the lines washed away as if they were never there. 

His soulmate finally gave up on him.

On Wednesday he wore a sleeveless shirt. Zoe didn’t say anything to him on the ride to school. He could feel the disappointment. Someday he would explain it to her. 

Connor wanted to feel relieved, but that wasn’t what filled the inside of him. He just felt empty. He felt so fucking empty. 

It wasn’t a mistake. He’d been heartless, but it was what had to be done. Better to cut the stranger off now before he got hurt. 

On the way out of school, Connor ran into Evan Hansen. Literally. One second he was walking, the next he was on the ground and so was Evan.

“Sorry!” Evan stammered, scrambling to pick up the books he’d been carrying.

“It’s fine,” Connor pulled himself off the ground. 

Evan’s eyes shot to him. He must have been too busy freaking out to realize who he ran into. Connor watched Evan’s eyes widen. Right, he forgot the kid was probably still scared of him.

Connor extended a hand to help Evan up, but suddenly Evan was scrambling onto his feet and down the hallway.

“Okay,” Connor muttered. That really made him feel great about himself.

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he was about to continue walking. That was when his eyes fell on a familiar book. Quickly, he picked up the sketch book Evan had dropped in the middle of the hallway. 

If running into Connor had made him jump, losing this was probably going to give Evan a heart attack. Connor could get Zoe or Alana to return it to him. He was fairly sure that at least one the girls knew Evan. 

There was no one else in the hallway. 

Connor had already admitted to himself serval times that he was not a good person. He knew that the chivalrous thing to do would probably be to respect Evan’s privacy, but he was dying to see what was in this book. 

Leaning against the wall of lockers, Connor flipped the sketch book open. 

 

His eyes were met with a oak tree. It took him a second to realize that this was the tree outside of the school, because it looked so much more alive, so much more beautiful than that tree ever had.

Next was the school building, only it was vibrant. Instead of sucking away life, it seemed to give it back. This was so much more powerful than Connor had imagined Evan’s drawings would be. 

On the third page was a vine. 

The book fell from Connor’s hands. Never mind, he was having the heart attack instead. Shakily, he bent down and gathered the book up again. He clenched the pages like a life line. His eyes bore into the delicate strokes of Evan Hansen’s pencil. 

He recognized that vine. 

Connor’s fingers took him to the last filled page of the book. There he saw the same flower that had first appeared on his arm. Only, now there was something wrong with it. The petals were drooping, and the vine twisted into something sick. The flower was dying.

Connor killed it.

He couldn’t breath. He needed out. He didn’t want to know this. This wasn’t fair.

He tried to close the book, but instead it opened to a page in the middle. Connor’s eyes bore into a drawing of himself. 

Only, this couldn’t be him. He didn’t look like that. His eyes weren’t that soft, his face wasn’t that smooth. This wasn’t a drawing of him. This was a declaration. It was beautiful—more beautiful than poetry or music.

Evan Hansen was Connor’s soulmate and he fucking knew it the entire time.

Evan Hansen was Connor’s soulmate and Connor had just broken his heart. 

Then he was running. He darted out of the school and through the parking lot. It seemed the stalking had done him little good, since he had no fucking clue where Evan Hansen had run off to. He still couldn’t breath, the running really wasn’t helping.

“Connor!”

He whirled around to see Alana and Zoe both giving him concerned looks. He probably looked like a mess. The sketch book was still clutched in his shaking hands.

“Have you seen Evan Hansen,” he demanded. 

“Yeah, why?” Zoe asked slowly.

He didn’t have time to explain.

“I’ll tell you at home,” he brushed off. “Do you know where he went?”

“He goes to the park after school,” Alana provided. “The one a few blocks from here.”

Connor officially approved of his sister’s soulmate. 

“Thanks,” he stated before he was running again. 

His heart was pounding, and part of him hadn’t processed anything yet. He felt exhilarated, but also terrified. Evan wasn’t going to want him after what Connor did. But he couldn’t leave the inked flower to die. Only now did he realized that by letting it go it wasn’t saving it. He was stealing it’s life and throwing it away.

Connor was panting by the time he reached the park. He felt light headed. He didn’t get exercise often, and he knew for a fact that he was very dehydrated at the moment. None of that mattered when his eyes landed on Evan. 

He hadn’t noticed Connor. He was sitting on a bench, his head in his hands. He looked crushed. That was Connor’s fault. 

Connor felt like his heart was contracting. Every fiber of him wanted to hold Evan, to apologize. He wanted to do anything and everything that it would take to make Evan smile again. He needed to bring the light back into Evan’s eyes.

“Hansen,” he heard his voice call out. 

It was so fucking shaky. It still managed to startle Evan. His gaze met Connor’s then darted down to the book in his hands. Connor watched the situation click in Evan’s head as he slowly approached the bench.

“You dropped this,” Connor held the book out to him.

Out of all the stupid obvious things he could have said how on earth did his brain let that sentence leave his lips. Evan took the sketch book with shaking hands. His eyes refused to meet Connor’s. 

“So you know then?” Evan whispered. 

“Now I do,” Connor confirmed.

Evan closed his eyes.

“Just get it over with,” he stammered. 

“What?” Connor didn’t understand.

“Just say it,” Evan looked up at him with tears in his eyes. Connor felt his heart break. “Say you don’t want me, say I’m not good enough. It’s okay, I get it.”

“That’s not,” Connor heard his voice break. 

What had he done? This wasn’t what he meant. He was the one who wasn’t good enough. He was the one who was too broken. He was the one who shouldn’t be wanted.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out.

“Connor?” There was fear in Evan’s eyes now. It wasn’t like in the hallway, or any of the other times Connor had seen Evan shy away from others. Evan was looking at Connor like he was afraid Connor was going to shatter and he wouldn’t be able to put the pieces together.

“I’m fucked up,” Connor whispered. “I didn’t want you to be stuck with me.”

“What?” Very tentatively, Evan raised his hands to Connor’s face. Connor felt his finger wipe away a tear.

Connor pulled up the sleeve of his jacket, showing Evan his wrist. He watched Evan process this. Then wide eyes met his again. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I’m not supposed to have a soulmate. It’s not fair to you.”

Evan gently pressed his lips to Connor’s cheek. 

“Can I get a say on what’s fair to me?” he asked.

Conor nodded. 

Then Evan’s lips found his, his arms pulled Connor onto the bench. Connor closed his eyes. He kissed Evan back, doing everything he could to make each second last.

Evan’s hand slid down Connor’s shoulder, resting on his forearm where the inked flower used to live. When they were ready to talk, Connor would ask Evan to draw the flower again. He wanted it to continue, he wanted it to live unbroken.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is what happens when I'm supposed to be sleeping and have too much mind clutter to work on one of my multi chap stories...


End file.
